Red vs Blue: The lost Freelancer (Redone)
by peace shadow
Summary: The redone version of my RVB fanfic. The life and journey of a young freelancer, frought with violence, love and of course annoying AIs. I only own Alabama, Virginia, Georgia, Nevada, and other mysterious characters... ENJOY!
1. Chapter 1

Base of Operations for Project Freelancer: 7:00am, Mother of Invention

Dr. Leonard Church examined the portfolios in front of him; out of thousands of participants that had signed up, he had to choose from the remaining few to be a part of his project. Fortunately, he had been spared thousands and had only been given a hundred. He began with a sigh, and started going through a stack when he notice a smaller one with a tag that read "best candidates." Despite his many misgivings, the Director's assistant was very thorough and knew not to do things to irritate him. He asked out loud to the only other intelligence in the room, "Alpha, how did you come across these candidates?"

A blue figure appeared on the desk before him. "That stack? Those guys were... actually just seemed to match several things that you said "the perfect freelancer should have," the figure quoted with a touch of sarcasm.

Dr. Church nodded and shifted through the stack in discussion. He opened one and glanced at the contents. He turned back to Alpha and briskly said, "This one seems... adequate enough."

Alpha nodded in agreement and then looked shocked. "Did you just compliment me, dude? Are you going soft in your old age?"

The Director ignored him and read over the document: the more he read, the more he was certain that this one soldier could be a brilliant success and addition to the project... assuming all went to plan and the subject survived.

Several days later...

25-year old Private Alan looked at himself in the mirror; tall, a natural tan, a dark buzz cut, and a scar across vertically his face, from shrapnel when he had boarded the refugee shuttle. He paused as his mind drifted back: Zeta Prime had been his home, a small little planet left out for simple agriculture and a peaceful settlement. At least until the Covenant came. He put down his razor and slipped on his recruit uniform; a "simple" training armor and ODST helmet, and began to sprint towards the briefing room. It had been 3 months since the Covenant glassed his home. Two months since he stood over his family's grave. One month since he joined the USNC to fight back. Now he was chosen for a secret project on a cruiser in the middle of nowhere. Of course everything about this whole ship gave a creepy vibe from the very skilled medical team to the gruff attitude to the Director.

Two weeks ago, he had just put his boots on the "**Mother of Invention's"** deck when he had been whisked over to a dark-skinned man who gave him the code-name: Alabama. After a quick briefing, he had been visited in his _quarters _as the soldiers called it, by none other than the Director, the brains behind the project. Surprisingly, a man had visited him to give his own condolences on his family's departure. He too had lost someone precious to the Covenant, and he would make sure NO one's sacrifice would be in vain. Al of course hadn't realized the significance of this event until later when he found out that he was the actual Director.

He checked his watch and swore: it was 11:59 and the meeting started at 12:00. Taking off at a pace honed by racing his siblings, he ran, and yet managed to avoid slamming into every person that walked by him. By the time he got there, all the recruits had assembled in their armor and helmets; they were all different colors though. Probably so they could tell each other apart, he thought. They all looked at him as he entered the room. He gave a quick salute, glad that his helmet covered his embarrassment.

The Director looked at him disapprovingly and spoke. "Recruit Alabama, remember to be earlier in future briefings, " the Director reprimanded him coolly.

Several snickers could be heard from the group as Al responded as straight-face as he could, "Won't happen again sir."

The Director nodded and began, "Welcome all of you to Project Freelancer. You have been chosen among hundreds of applicants to be in this project. This is a honor so remember that. For the next few years, you will be trained with the best, and will use the newest tech in training scenarios. Remember at any time during this project, you may and can be eliminated from the project and be returned to your former position or possibly straight to prison, depending on your actions." He swallowed and continued, "For now for training purposes, you will be put in teams of three."

He motioned the Chairman who typed several things into a tablet he was carrying; on the screen, a list of teams and their members appeared: Red, Blue and Green Teams.

Al's eyes wandered down the list until he saw his name under Red Team with fellow recruits Maine and York. A pulse went through his armor and his shoulder plates turned red.

The Director turned back to the recruits and his stare seemed to rest on Al for a moment before saying, "Dismissed."

The freelancers began to "buddy up," meeting their new teammates. He then noticed a bronze-armored recruit walk up to him, his helmet hanging from his belt. He had red/brown hair shaped like a point outwards and had a pair of brown eyes.

The recruit gave a salute and said with a straight face, "Recruit York reporting for duty, sir." There was a pause before York broke into a chuckle and stuck out his hand to shake. "So I guess we're teammates, huh?"

Al grinned good-naturedly and shook his hand. "The name's Alabama. Nice to know not all of the recruits would be dead-serious."

A pink recruit brushed by him rudely, just enough to knock him off balance for a second and stumble. He managed to balance himself for a moment then the weight of his armor dragged him crashing to the floor.

"HEY!" York yelled. "Watch it, Pinky!"

"Pinky" turned to glare at him. "You want to start something?"

York opened his mouth but stopped when Maine put a hand on his shoulder and said with a deep and growling-like voice, "Enough. Both of you break it up."

"Well aren't you the mature one?" she sneered. Then she frowned when Maine shook his head and smiled.

"I'm not the one having my period."

Of course as all wise men can tell you, one thing you do not ask a woman is if she going through her period. So if you combined a crazy trigger-happy soldier and a statement known to turn peaceful angels into serious ass-kickers, congratulations you understand the equation for a serious "Oh crap" moment.

"WHY YOU SONOFA-!" she yelled charging at Maine, who was actually taking a step back at the sight of his handiwork.

A blue recruit rushed in between the two and held them apart. "THAT's ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!" The pink one growled menacingly but walked away. Maine scratched his head sheepishly.

"Sorry..."

The blue one only nodded and walked away towards her apparent team, consisting of pinky and a green-colored agent. York whistled and said dryly, "I guess you guys just met Carolina."


	2. Chapter 2

One day later

**Examination Paint-Scenario Training Program Initiated**

(Training Room)

York peered out of his cover at the opposition and managed to remark, "For training robots, these things are excellent shots."

Maine nodded and internally Al agreed; the recruits had been put into three separate training rooms together to see what they could do. Each room was filled with rows of stone pillars and three pistols, filled with practice-paint ammo. They had no idea how the other recruits were doing or what they would be facing, right until a trio of robotic drones rose from the floor gun barrels rotating and aiming straight towards them. The three had dove for cover and now were still there, the pillars blocking the barrage of paint meant for them.

Al peaked around the edge of his cover to glance at the annoying and obnoxious drones, only to jump back when one of them began shooting straight at him. Swearing, he stepped back and began thinking hard.

(Observation deck)

The Director watched from high above in the observation platform. To anyone else, he would have seemed bored and irritated; in reality, his mind was racing. Before he joined the science division of the military, he had taken several classes in medicine, advanced technology and such. Now he was trying to understand the best way to teach these recruits the most successfully. He sighed wearily; maybe he should have taken a class in psychology. His train of thought was broken by the sound of what sounded like a painful snarl.

(Training Room)

"Maine!"

Al could only watch as York dragged Maine behind some more protective cover. York flashed him a thumbs-up and Al could only breathe in relief. He was surprised to see Maine get shot, then again, he was the biggest recruit so it was probably harder for him to hide behind cover. He looked again at the drones only to notice that their attention was all on his teammates. A light bulb went off in his head and he spoke on his radio, "York, keep their fire on you, okay?"

His teammate cocked his head in confusion and suddenly he understood as well. York nodded and popped out of his cover, just long enough to send a few rounds towards the drones and he leaned back into cover just in time as all three drones returned fire. By then, Al was already gone; he ran out of his cover, weaving around the pillars until he was about two rows of pillars away from the turrets, then the drones noticed him. Time seemed to slow down and in those precious seconds, Al did something he would never understand how he did it, just that he did it.

He stepped on and then leaped off a pillar, turning the leap into a front-flip right into the face of a turret. Then, he ducked under the turret and fired at the exposed wires in the joint, freezing it in place. He swerved around it and grabbed the second one and used it as a shield against the third, which shot it several times, putting it out of commission. He then grabbed the third's barrel and aimed it upwards towards the ceiling and shot it in it's exposed wiring like the first. All three fell to the ground, apparently deactivated.

He kicked it for good measure and managed, "THAT was for Maine, scrap-metal."

York stood out of cover, cheering and pumping his fist while his other hand was supporting his giant of a friend Maine.

Over their cheering, they could hear F.I.L.S proclaim in her monotone voice, "Simulation terminated. Winner: Red Team."

(Observation deck)

The Director raised an eyebrow; to anyone who knew him personally, that meant he was surprised as hell. Mostly, by the fact he underestimated his new recruits. He let himself have a small smile at the surprise.

(Lockers)

Al and York helped Maine make his way into the lockers where an engineer was already waiting to pull off the hardened paint. They helped him sit down with a loud thump, surprisingly without making a dent in the bench. Maine grunted a thanks as the engineer sat down and got to work.

York pulled off his helmet and grinned at his teammates. "Looks like we have passed with flying colors, boys!"

Al let a smile stretch across his face and asked, "Was there any doubt?"

Maine looked up and motioned to York, who nodded quickly.

"I was getting that." he said before turning back to their confused teammate. "Before we do anymore practices, we need someone to take charge of the group because we can't have three people doing their own thing every time. Someone's going to end up hurt or worse."

Al quickly understood; they needed an official team leader. "York, I trust you. You already have my vote-…"

He was surprised to see York shake his head vigorously, laughing before speaking, "Before the match, Maine and I agreed that if we were to decide who the leader was, it would be decided from the training program. The leader would be strong, wise, and above all, lucky."

Al raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

York and Maine nodded before Al started to respond, "Guys, guys. I'm glad that you have such faith in me but..." Actually he couldn't come up with a good reason why not, just that he was nervous and terrified at being in charge of two other lives besides him.

York grinned at his shocked expression and said loudly, "Well, that clinches it. Starting now, Alabama, you are the de facto leader of Red Team."

The team burst out laughing when he frowned and muttered, "Now if only we had some beer to celebrate..."


	3. Chapter 3

Time-skip 2 years

The last two years had flown by quite fast; the recruits had learned to shoot accurately with various weapons, fight hard in close quarters combat and other feats worthy of the mythical Spartan II program. Soon, the project was recruiting new members, so there soon would be four teams instead of three: Red, Blue, Green and Black. But besides that, it was like any other day at the office, complete with a sort of "friendly" rivalry that had grown between the four teams ; which consisted of pranks and in extreme cases, sabotage. Each team was almost like a family in a way.

Al sighed as York griped about the event being dubbed "prank-week"; the recruits had made it an unofficial monthly holiday to cope with the rigorous training and schedule. The Director had not ended it, only saying that they could continue as long as they kept with their training.

"...Then South dropped a stink bomb in my room and if it wasn't bad enough, I'm pretty sure Carolina dropped itching powder in my underwear!" York exclaimed, a bit of anger in his voice.

At this, Al could only raise an eyebrow. Carolina had be the most by-the-book recruit on the ship, which put her at odds with fun-loving trainees like South and York. Of course nobody said that out loud; the last one to ended up in the medical wing.

Al glanced at his teammate and said, "You're crazy. Carolina is no prankster."

"Is that so?"

He spewed his coffee across the table and turned so fast he cracked his neck. York, being the victim of the projected coffee, swore and glared at Al for a second before realizing that the subject of their conversation had been listening in.

Al swallowed and swore in his mind; of all the times York could rant about the most intimidating recruit on the ship and he had to chose the one day that they were sitting next to her table. Trying to calm himself down, he began to try to pacify the volatile recruit.

"I.. He... um... crap."

Well, they were officially dead because Al couldn't put out a single word. Damn his stupid cracking voice!

A familiar chuckle broke the uncomfortable silence. "Well look what the cat dragged in," South said with her favorite cocky smile on.

York unsure what how to deal with Carolina, had a pastime of trading comebacks with South. He raised an eyebrow and replied, "I'll say, you smell like rotten eggs!" Al tried to hide a smile as Maine began to laugh deeply.

The speakers overhead crackled and F.I.L.S. said, "Blue Team and Red Team, report to the training room for afternoon teamwork exercises."

Al and his team exchanged glances; teamwork exercises usually tended to be painful and practically impossible to do because none of the teams usually got along.

"Well, ..."

(Training Room sometime later)

"Duck!"

Al ducked as a turret opened fire on the spot where his head had been before; the damn turrets were even faster and more accurate than their first test. Worse, there were six of them, one for each recruit; other than that, it was the same scenario as before: a room of pillars and stone wall-like cover and survive as long as possible.

Carolina and Virginia were hiding behind one piece of cover while everyone else were hiding behind nearby pillars. York peeked out for a second and hid again and managed to joke, "Well, it can't get any worse, can it?"

Al rolled his eyebrows and peered barely around the corner: from what he saw, the drones were put in a circle like formation, with enough space to allow them to turn without hitting each other. He turned on his comms and called, "Carolina, any ideas on the situation?"

"Yeah, don't get in my way."

He turned in time to see her take a running position; almost immediately after, his glance shifted to the other two members of Blue Team who were taking potshots, that didn't come close to hitting one of their targets.

_"Or maybe, they don't need to!"_ he realized and spoke on his mic again. "Carolina, don't-..!"

She took off like a rocket, sprinting across the ground as he watched and yelled into his mic, "Covering fire! ASAP!"

York and Maine had also seen her and began to shoot at different angles to avoid shooting course nobody is that lucky; about ten feet from the circle, one of the turrets managed to graze her leg, which was soon covered in pink paint ammo. Quickly, she began to tumble head over heels to a stop; after a moment to balance herself, she managed to pull herself to cover.

"Shit!" he swore before ordering his team, "Alright evade plan leap frog and rhino!"

At that, everyone not on Red Team stared at him. "What the fuck are you talking abou-…?"

By then, Red Team was already gone. York and Al were moving between the pillars, sometimes running, sometimes jumping over and sometimes ducking into cover. Maine... well he was the bulkiest and not the most agile recruit so he just ran through the stone pillars, one at a time.

Soon, Al had reached Carolina behind cover and Maine and York were behind cover, the four of them barely 10 feet from the turrets which were trying to shoot the pillars at them. He crouched down next to Carolina and stoically said, "How's that plan working for you?"

She glared at him the best she could with her helmet on and he shrugged.

"Not so well, huh?"

He turned to his team and began to give out orders. "York, Maine, start to circle around so we can send them into a crossfire. South and Virginia, move in and form a semi-circle."

South glared at him and was about to say something when Carolina spoke on the comms, "South, I'm making that an order."

South merely nodded and began to slowly creep up with Virginia. Al began to crack some of the paint off of Carolina with his pistol until she could move, although she was still in pain.

Al looked at her and asked, "Can you shoot?"

She looked at him and nodded coolly. The two of them quickly got into positions that had a full sight of the turrets. Al spoke on the comms again, "Everyone in position?"

He got a chorus of yes's and ready's; after getting a clear line of sight, he yelled, "NOW!"

In seconds, the recruits were laying down a crossfire, that quickly began to cover all the turrets in immobilizing paint. The recruits burst into cheers as the turrets and pillars sank back into the ground.

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Some time later... (Mess Hall)

"I'm just saying man, you should totally ask her out!" York exclaimed in a barely-quiet voice.

Alabama glared at him; despite being out of armor, he could still pull off a good I-will-kill-you-look. Unlike the rest of the recruits, he preferred to wear his fatigues when he was on break. He held up two fingers and replied, "Two things wrong with that idea: 1) we are in the MIDDLE of SPACE; where the heck would I take her?"

Yes, Alabama was developing a sort of "crush" on the cold, scarlet-haired femme fatale. No, he had no experience in these matters. Before Zeta Prime was glassed, he only had one crush and didn't even have the guts to ask her out. So, yeah, he was in deep brown water, which is why he asked his team for aid in the romance department. Only now, he was regretting telling York.

"What's the second thing?" York asked casually with a grin.

Al opened his mouth but nothing would come out. For a moment, there was a silence; then Al replied angrily, "Shut up, York."

Maine had been silent during the conversation, but he noticed something approaching and grunted slowly, "Here.. it... comes." He always talked slowly but managed to get the point across, if not slightly delayed.

York and Al looked in his direction; the object of their discussion was walking by in her teal armor and scarlet-red hair: Agent Carolina.

"Good job during training today," a sudden and unexpected female voice whispered next to his helmet; he shot ups so fast, his coffee spilled all over his pants. Maine held in his mirth in check while York burst out laughing.

Alabama looked up to see Carolina, the invincible ice queen, walk towards her team... with a smirk stretching across her face.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own REd vs. blue except for the following characters: Virginia, Alabama, Nevada and the oc CT and Georgia (and one or two people that I forget)

Chapter 4: the coming storm

Date: several months since last report (location: Mother of Invention)

The last two years had been kind of nice, in Al's opinion: Maine had started hanging out with Virginia from Blue team (he didn't think the big guy was ever going to make a friend besides his own team) and York... was York. He currently had just finished today's weapon practice and he was suppose to meet his team for close combat training in the gym. He could already feel the bruises from Maine..

Just then his private coms repeated, "Agent Alabama, report to the ER immediately.

Without another thought, he sprinted towards the hospital section of the cruiser: the ER was for real emergencies and serious wounds like misfired ammo, shrapnel or the occasional knife trick gone too far. What could have happened? He threw open the door; York, Carolina, a teary-eyed Virginia and surprisingly the Director. Virginia, the blue-eyed blonde in green armor was always quiet but like the rest of the recruits, she didn't cry easy; he was shocked to say the least.

"What's going on?" he panted. York just pointed through the window at the patient in the ER; reluctantly, Al peeked into the window... and stared in horror. There lying on the metal table, covered in blood and multiple wounds was...

"Maine," Al whispered, in shock.

York spoke for the first time since he entered the room, "They found him in the hallway when it happened; by the time he got here... Al, he barely had a _pulse_."

For the longest moment, Al stood there, his helmet hooked onto his belt until... "Who?" That one word was filled with horror, shock, ….. and anger.

Virginia managed between sobs, "Georgia."

Georgia was the meanest son of a gun on the ship, and he knew it. He was a cruel jerk to everyone and intimidated everyone he met... except a few of the freelancers, the Director, the Councilor and Phyllis. He was Black Team's leader and was as cruel as he was ruthless. He had grown up on the streets of New Pyra on New Jupiter; the result was a cruel, heartless and moral-less bastard who had grown up with a sort of you're-either-worth-it-or-your-scum-complex.

"What happened exactly?" Al said, his voice as cold as ice.

The Director answered this time, "Georgia was walking by Virginia and began to approach her in a... lude manner."

York nodded and continued, "When she told him off, he began to threaten her. Then Maine walked in and saw him. He went in and shoved Georgia; after that...

Al pinched his nose to avoid losing his temper and faked calmness. Alabama though he couldn't get any angrier then he was already.. until he heard Carolina say, "He also said he did the crew a favor, trying to killing him-…"

That's when the four of them heard it: the sound of something snapping. In this case, it was Alabama. He walked towards the door when the Director stopped him, "Where are you going, Recruit Alabama?" Al turned, his eyes filled with bloodlust and vengeance that seemed to scare even his fellow teammates, and said simply, "I'm going to kill Georgia."

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The whole ship could feel something wrong; the crew could read the message in the not-normal atmosphere: there would be hell to pay. Alabama stomped out of the ER and slammed on his helmet. He was furious... no PAST furious_. _

_"Georgia, you are going to pay!" _he thought as he switched on his comms. "PHILIS," he announced on the comm. , anger barely noticeable in his voice.

The familiar, cool and feminine voice trickled over the speakers. "Hello Agent Al. How may I serve you today?"

PHILIS wasn't lax in protocol but still managed to turn a blind eye to most of the little pranks the teams pulled on each other. But right now, he needed someone to bend the rules a bit... "He's at the mess hall. Oh and make him kiss ass."

Despite the impending bloodshed, Al allowed himself one wicked, predatorily grin. "You are one awesome AI, Phyllis."

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A certain blue-colored AI turned off the comm and chuckled in voice different from PHILIS. "I know I am. After all, I'm the Alpha."

He had found out about what Georgia did after an emergency medic team had been summoned to pick up Maine in the hallway. Now, he was all in all for a little pranking but he was very firm in the belief that some people (like Georgia) needed to pay dearly... Besides, PHILIS was too much of a stickler for the rules to help Al out like that.

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Mess Hall (Lunchroom)

Green Team and South sat together at the mess hall; at a nearby table, sat orange-armored Georgia and grey-armored Nevada (who was trying her best due to the fact she was his only friend), laughing at a joke he made. Their other partner CT had come to sit with Green Team and South, taking turns with his real friends to glare at his horrible and cruel teammates. The news about Maine had spread like wildfire and now the whole ship knew about it.

"Look at that cocky bastard," Wyoming muttered, his usually comical British accent marked with disgust.

South spat on the floor and muttered a word that would have embarrassed North, if he had not been mentally agreeing with her.

Washington glanced at North and managed in as professional tone he could muster, "We can't sit here and let them get away with this!" He was the most innocent(-ish) and gullible of the recruits but now, even he wanted to shoot Georgia very badly (of course that was unlikely considering he was probably the worst fighter of the recruits).

Before North could reply, the mess hall's doors flew off its hinges and slammed into the opposite wall. All the recruits glanced at the door as they rose at an unspoken command then turned to the now open entrance. There stood Alabama in the ruined hallway, cracking his knuckles before saying in a cold and merciless tone, "I'm calling you out, Georgia."

To be continued...

Read and Review please!


	5. Chapter 5

An hour later

York stood in the observation room, over the training room. The members of Green, Blue and Black team had also gathered there; Nevada and CT were on different sides of the issue but even she (Nevada) was somewhat uneasy around Georgia now. CT stood next to York, clearly upset. York nodded at him; Alabama didn't blame anyone for what had happened except for Georgia and so neither did York. "_Come on, AL," _he thought. _" Don't die, man." _

"Don't worry about him so much." York and CT swung around; Carolina was standing there, looking at them. She continued, "Remember Al is the best freelancer we got. Don't worry about him. Pity Georgia."

That was the nicest thing that Carolina had said, EVER; even Virginia was shocked and they were on the same flipping team! The strange peculiar moment was cut short when the training bell went off. The fight was about to begin...

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Alabama walked onto the field and stared across from Georgia, who watched him with contempt, also out of his dirt-brown armor. The two walked towards each other until they were a good six-feet away from each other.

"Here to "avenge" your big brute of a pal?" Georgia asked confidentially. "No need to thank me. He was just little bit short of a-…"

Irritated with his mouthing off, Alabama interrupted, "Are you going to fight or are you going to make more excuses?"

Just before the bell rang, Georgia threw in one last jibe, "After I'm done here with you, I'm going after everyone else. Who knows? Maybe Carolina would like to be my personal bitch."

Alabama's mind blanked; Georgia had just insulted and make a rude remark about her of all people... At that exact moment, the bell rang; which was unfortunate for Georgia because for some strange reason, Al was now angrier than he had been when he found out about Maine.

"DIE!" Alabama yelled as he leaned forward and punched Georgia right in the visor with every bit of anger in his fist, which sent him flying, 20 feet across the room.

…...

"Damn!" South exclaimed as the rest of the freelancers secretly agreed. Due to the thick walls, they couldn't hear what Georgia had said; but whatever it was, it had pissed off Al for sure.

Georgia stood back up and growled and rushed Alabama. He feinted a right punch and tried to punch him in the stomach. Al's eyes narrowed behind his helmets visor as he tried to catch the fist but failed. Georgia then slammed his other fist into the side of his head. Al fell to the ground, groaning; the whole room seemed to spin on an axis for him. Georgia grabbed him around the neck and his belt and without a single sign of trouble, lifted Al up and threw him across the room, creating a miniature crater in the wall. Al tried to stand up but he just slid to the ground. He must still have been winded; his vision was a bit blurry. He heard the speakers declare, "First point: Georgia." A doctor ran onto the field and assisted by York, dragged Al off the field as he fell unconscious.

2 minutes later...

He was in the clinic while the doctor examined him as York, Carolina, North and the Director watched him. To be honest, he wasn't sure why Carolina was there but he felt better somehow. The other three had insisted on coming down to check on him.

The doctor finally finished and stood up slowly; he was a former field medic but now he was one of their best doctors. He turned to Al and said, "I suggest you throw the match, Agent Al."

His eyes tightened as he said, "That bad, huh?"

The doctor nodded solemnly and continued, "One punch broke two of your ribs."

North whistled and asked "When did he get so strong? He wasn't this strong during last week's sparring." Al silently agreed.

"Maybe he was just holding back during practice," Carolina suggested.

"No." The five of them turned to the door; there in dark-brown armor stood CT. He continued, "A week ago, I was looking for my experimental grenade designs. Instead I found these in his drawer." At this, he held up a pair of medical shots.

Al's mind raced: Georgia must have taken steroids prior to the fight and only one drug in their medical training had been mentioned that had similar results. Tetrozine, a failed experimental drug that had the potential to temporarily make the user a tad bit superhuman. The drug had been banned for the fact that it left most of the test subjects mentally and psychologically handicapped.

"How on earth did he get a supply of tetrozine?" Carolina asked.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes; the bigger question is what do we do?" York proclaimed.

There was a pause for a moment then a ragged but familiar voice spoke, "I may have an answer, Recruit York."

**I apologize for the shortness but it just seemed like a good spot to stop. I also want to thank everyone for waiting patiently.**

**I would also like to take this time to thank a fellow fanfiction writer who helped me make these stories a bit more bearable. :)**

**THANKS Bushtuckapenguin! **


	6. Chapter 6

Alabama POV

Alabama walked over to the emergency table, where the Director and two surgeons waited. The Director had offered a temporary procedure that had the possibility of giving him an edge in combat. Al had not understood until the Director had explained the process: they were going to graft an AI to his skull in a complicated and experimental procedure. Of course it was only temporarily, until the match was over at least. So there was only a small possibility of negative side effects. The bonuses however included an enhanced reaction time, agility and speed which would all come in handy with a juiced Georgia.

The Director placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Are you ready, Alabama?"

Al looked at the visitor's glass where everyone was waiting for him, watching him and remembered that Maine was fighting for his life... all because of Georgia. Al sat down on the table and with a bravery that he was barely holding onto said, "Let's do this."

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In the Waiting Room

Green Team, Blue Team, CT and York stood in the room, waiting to see their friend safe. North, Wyoming, Virginia, and South were sitting in chairs while everyone else stood.

Wash was tapping his foot anxiously until an irritated South glared at him and yelled, "Cut it out!"

Wash flinched and stopped while North played peacekeeper.

"That's enough, South. We're all a little on the edge."

South growled and sat back down and looked at York who was typing something into a screen on the wall. "What are you up to then, goldilocks?"

York continued to type as he responded, "Just hacking in to secure medical files to check on Maine."

Several of the freelancers raised eyebrows while Wash's eyes widened. "But aren't those under restricted access?"

A light beep came from the screen and York replied solemnly, "Not for me."

The freelancers watched him as he pulled up Maine's file...

and pumped his fist.

"Looks like Maine will be fine!" he said loudly, happy that his pal wasn't going to die. Around him the other freelancers were also breathing sighs of reliefs (or in Wash's case, cheer yes, then trip on nothing and land on South's lap).

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"Alabama wake up. Now is not the time to be lying on your ass!"

Al slowly opened his eyes and began to sit up on the bed, a monster migraine pulsing in the back of his head. He looked up to see the freelancers crowded around him, now obviously relieved.

"_Hello Alabama. How are you?"_

He shook his head and told York, "York, I'm pretty good, thanks for asking."

Everyone stare at him and York said slightly nervous, "I didn't say anything, man."

Al swallowed; great, he was hearing voices.

_"Nope, if you were hearing voices, you'd be in the loony bin, dude."_

At this, Al did something he had hoped he wouldn't since he got on the ship for the sake of acting like a mature adult.

"HOLY SHIT!" he cursed, in a high-pitched tone.

He leaped off the bed and began whirl around, looking for the source of the voice. The other freelancers just stared at him until a small blue-figure appeared on the bed.

"_Hello Alabama, or can I call you Al?"_

Al looked at the figure and threw his hands up. He muttered angrily "Great, I've officially lost it. Now I'm seeing little blue pixies."

The little blue figure tilted his head then vanished, only to reappear next to Al's head a second later.

"_Look asshole, if I was a pixie, I would have wings, a wand and not be in charge of the whole fucking ship! So you'd think wisely before you pissed me off, jackass!"_

Now Al was a peaceful guy but now he had a blue... thing yelling at him, his best friend in the ER and headed into a fight he most likely would lose. So for the first time in a long time, he lost it.

He knelt down before the blue thing and gave it a piece of his mind.

"ALRIGHT you little piece of shit! I don't have time for this! The Director says I need to work with you in order to beat GEORGIA BUT NOW I COULD CARE LESS! I'M GOING TO KICK HIS FUCKING ASS FROM THE TRAINING ROOM ALL THE WAY BACK TO EARTH, WITH OR WITHOUT YOUR HELP!"

All the freelancers watched him in absolute shock and horror as he stare with absolute hatred at the small figure who stared back at him then chuckled.

"_I think we're going to get along just fine."_

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

The "pair" of them walked back onto the field just as before. It had taken some time (about 10 minutes) for Al to get somewhat used to a second voice in his head; it didn't help that Alpha kept wolf-whistling when he went passed Carolina while the mic system was on, leaving Carolina with a raised eyebrow and Al a blush and a curse on his lips.

Georgia smirked and said arrogantly, "Well, I honestly thought you'd be exhausted by now and thrown in the towel."

Al was about to ignore him when Alpha whispered something. He turned on his speakers and said with a grin, "That's what your sister said last night. Boy was she surprised."

Georgia's eyes narrowed, and inside his helmet, Al and his newfound partner were laughing their respective asses off.

Al and Georgia crouched into fighting positions when the speakers declared, "2nd round continues in 5...4...3...2...1.. BRING!"

As soon as the bell rang, Georgia charged him. That's when he noticed a change: he seem to moving faster than usual and Georgia a bit slower.

"_Guess the director's guess about unknown side effects was right," _He thought curiously.

He sidestepped and punched Georgia in the visor. His fist still hurt like hell but it was so worth punching the ass. He stepped back and paused; almost immediately, time went back to normal. Georgia flew back five or six feet and landed on his back. Al asked on his private helmet comms, "Uh, Alpha? What just happened?"

There another second of silence then his teammate said, _"Welllll... I currently am working on your reaction time and perception." _

Al raised an eyebrow, "And that's science for...?"

Alpha grumbled and then said,_ "In idiot terms, I am making it so everything seems slowed down to you but in reality you're just moving a bit faster than everyone-… Heads up, he's back on his feet."_

With a snarl, Georgia leapt back to his feet.

Al then grinned ferociously. "My turn," he said.

He ran straight towards Georgia as Alpha "switched on" the adrenaline rush/ "half-time" sensation. Ducking under a punch that could have broken another two ribs, he swung a right hook into Georgia's chest then followed it up with a swift one-two combo uppercut and spun around and snap kicked Georgia back onto the ground. He felt powerful, terrified at his new ability... but in short he loved it all. He ruthlessly proceeded to rain blows on Georgia until he punched him in the helmet. With Georgia temporarily disabled, Al lifted his leg back, aimed for his target and brutally kicked him in his...

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"OUCH!" CT exclaimed, chuckling; everyone else had similar reactions. South was laughing hard as most of the guys were covering their crotches.

"Hate to be him," Wyoming said tensely with a pained smile.

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Georgia slid to a halt a few feet away, momentarily stunned at the incredible pain coursing through his lower regions.

Al made a victory sign with his hands while PHILIS declared, "Round 2 over. Winner: Alabama."

Georgia stood up quickly, only to sway a tiny bit before steadying himself.

Al got back into a fighting position as PHILIS began the countdown. "3..2...1. Final round begins."

At this, Georgia and Al charged at each other, this time they were going all out. Georgia was swinging blows with the quick and ruthless style of a professional brawler while Al focused mainly on dodging and throwing a quick punch here and there.

_Damnit! This is getting out of hand! Soon, I'll be exhausted and a fish in a barrel. _Al thought angrily. Then as he focused on the task at hand, Alpha burst out loud in his helmet, _"THIS ENDS NOW!"_

Immediately, Al felt a huge of strength and cold liquidly feeling spread throughout his body and recognized it as adrenaline... except much more stronger than he had ever felt. Georgia was now moving as fast as a snail while Al felt fine.

"Payback!" Al muttered and went on offense.

He closed in on Georgia and punched him straight in the helmet. He quickly followed up with a brutal double punch combo to the chest and spun on one foot and slammed his foot into Georgia's gut.

Georgia grasped his stomach in obvious pain but Al wasn't finished... not by a long shot. He then grabbed Georgia by the leg and proceeded to spin him around like sack of flour and then tossed him at the nearest wall. Georgia hit it and fell to the ground, looking up only in time to see Al slam Georgia's face into the wall, leaving a huge hole in the wall and an utterly unconscious Georgia.

Al took a step back and began to feel the adrenaline wear off, leaving him exhausted as well. He looked up at the observation deck and made a double victory sign. "And Red Team wins the beat-down!" he roared victoriously.

And then he fell to the ground and slipped into unconsciousness.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Two Days Later...))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Two days whizzed quickly by; the freelancers had a heavy and intense training schedule to keep up with, after all. The medics had rushed Al quickly (Georgia not so much) to the infirmary. After a couple of minutes of examinations, the doctors explained to the nervous and jittery freelancers waiting that he was merely suffering from his injuries in the first round and a lack of adrenaline. With several large sighs of relief, the freelancers returned to training... for the most part. Whenever they could, they would visit the bed-ridden Al who was now being practically flooded with get-well cards and some flowers brought in with the newest supply shipments.

Al was glad to have guests; it was one of the only things that he could actually do while bed-ridden (thank god for magazines and old recorded movies). He looked up at the sound of a turning knob to see Carolina poking her head around the door. He blinked and motioned her to come in.

She nodded and walked in, closing the door behind her.

"Just wanted to come in and check on you, see how you were doing," she explained.

"It's okay if you can stomach tasteless jello, read boring celebrity magazines and enjoy watching reruns of shows from the 90's," he joked. She grinned and tried to hide it before bursting out into a burst of laughter, which sounded both cheerful and calming.

He chuckled as well and soon they were both laughing out loud. He smiled and realized something.

"That's the first time I ever heard you laugh," he spoke, surprised.

Carolina sheepishly smiled and said, "Weird huh?"

In reality, she didn't really like her laugh because she always thought it came out a bit rough and weird due to the fact she was a stickler for procedure and stuff like that...

"No," he said, surprising himself and her. He felt some strange feeling slip through his body and his mouth seemed to move on its own. "It's nice and pretty... Like you."

Carolina's eyebrows rose slightly before she managed to say, "I should... probably let you rest."

Al nodded, trying to hold back a rising blush on his face before adding, "See you later."

Carolina backed to the door only to back over the guest chair and fall to the ground awkwardly. Al had to hold back a chuckle at the scene as she scrambled back onto her feet and opened the door and said "Goodbye."

As she closed the door, Al blushed a bit at what he said, thinking how things got incredibly awkward. However, if he could see Carolina walking away, he would have had a possible heart attack at the crimson blush on her face... and a small, innocent smile.


	7. Chapter 7

RED VS. BLUE THE LOST FREELANCER CHAPTER 7

Al and his team stood in the conference room with Black, Blue and Green Teams. They had been told to meet here for a special announcement and so they were now waiting for the Director and the Chairman to explain. Georgia had been taken off ship and into custody for using illegal drugs and a couple of other crimes Al didn't bother to remember; the point was Georgia was never coming back. That's when the Director walked in. The Agents saluted and stood at attention.

"At ease, Agents," the Director grunted.

That's when Al noticed for the first time since they walked onto the ship, that the Director had called them Agents, not recruits.

The other freelancers looked similarly bewildered as he continued, "The Chairman is waiting for you at the armory with new suits of combat armor for you to...choose. That will be part of what you will experience today as today is the official beginning of phase 2 of Project Freelancer. Any questions?"

York nodded and asked, "What's the difference between the armor we have and the combat armor?"

"You have so far just been using the practice armor which provides very little actual protection. The combat armor is the set that you will use on your missions with real enemies, not holograms. Not to mention the combat armor is state-of-the-art electronics and other special uses you will need."

Then North smirked. "It also may help you when the girls find out you have been peeping on them, too."

Before the recruits could even say a word, the Director said, "Dismissed!" The freelancers saluted him again and walked out of the room.

South practically zoomed down the hallway to the armory; if she had been a cartoon, there would be a dust trail behind her, Al thought. A blur of white and bronze ran by him closely pursued by a yelling green one. Carolina walked up beside him as they watched Virginia chase Wyoming and York.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," she quoted with a smile.

Al was shocked to see her talking with him, then again he had earned some respect from beating Georgia down a peg or two; some recruits had even promised to take him out for beers one day.

"Unless there's a scorned space warrior woman."

At that, they both laughed and went on their way. Everyone else was so preoccupied with their thoughts that when CT stopped abruptly, probably due to the fact he almost ran into the armory door, the freelancers ran into each other, forming a giant pile. Carolina and Al were pushed together, in an almost intimately way, which brought blood rushing to their faces. Luckily for the two of them, they were wearing their helmets.

After they disentangled themselves (which took longer than anyone expected), they walked into the armory. The Chairman was standing beside several, different models of armor with South looking at a set labeled Mark V. Al glanced at the armor sets that were labeled "E.O.D., RECON, HAZMOP, C.Q.B., MARK V, and E.V.A."

The rest of the freelancers filed in and were looking at the armor with expressions of awe, amazement and even love. Most of the freelancers were still looking by the time he chose his piece: the RECON armor set. The main reasons? 1st was he liked how it was built to be mobile and strong; the 2nd reason was because it looked pretty cool. He could afford to be a little vain, he thought with a smile. After all, his life depended on it. The Chairman watched as he walked over to one of the areas where the armor would be placed on him with some help from the assistants. He hoped it wouldn't hurt.

It did.

Holding his helmet, Alabama watched as the rest of the freelancers filed in, wearing their new armor. For some strange reason he didn't bother to fathom, York, Wash, North, South and Wyoming were all wearing the same armor, just different colors. York, Wyoming and North chose the same colors they had worn during training but South... he had to do a double take. Pink? The all-powerful and menacing South was wearing pink...

Speaking of menacing, the giant and scary Maine was fidgeting as Virginia helped him tighten the armor. The EVA armor was the only thing big enough to fit him... plus the fishbowl helmet was kind of cool. And then there was Black Team: Nevada was brooding, in a set of gray Pilot armor; CT was in his black EOD armor, checking out some statistics on his gauntlet.

He chuckled just as a blue armored hand lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Al turned around to see Carolina in a light blue HAZMOP armor set, her helmet attached to her belt.

"How are you feeling?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged and replied, "Okay for now. I'll have to visit the training room later to catch up to you guys."

She nodded and helped him check the straps on his armor set: he had a set of dark red recon armor with a UA/HUL [3] helmet attachment, that came with a few bonuses.

Then the Chairman came in and said, "Now that you picked out your armor, please remove it and report to the classroom for final details."

At this, everyone groaned out loud in irritation.

Same Day: 'Classroom', Mother of Invention

The classroom did resemble a college classroom, ironically, and overlooked the testing room that could change into a number of training scenarios. The freelancers, now in their fatigues, sat a tables shaped into a series of giant half-circles ( like half of a peeled onion) facing a huge flat-screen. The Director stood in front of them for a few dramatic seconds and began, "Agents, this is the end of your training. All of you have been trained to the best of our capabilities. From here on out, you are official Agents of project Freelancer."

At this, the majority of the room broke into cheers and one or two freelancers even tossed up their helmet like grad. hats.

He waited a few seconds for silence before continuing, "Due to part of this experiment, each of the top four agents will be given some sort of equipment that will serve to aid the agent in the field."

The Councilor began to pass out square-like devices the size of Al's armored gauntlet out as the Director spoke, "Each of these devices is designed specially for each agent so those who decide to share or take each others, you will be court-marshaled to the fullest extent of the Navy law. Each of you that receive one will meet with me in several days to receive training in their gadgets."

With that he ended the meeting.

The freelancers poured out of the class and began looking to see who got one. Wash and Wyoming were congratulating North, who had attached his device to his belt; Carolina was getting an envious look from South before getting hugged by Virginia, barely holding onto her device; and then there was Maine who was holding his device like it may be a bomb. While York was congratulating him, Al looked at the neatly written message given to him during the meeting, along with his device.

_"Agent Alabama,_

_Meet me in my office._

_-Director Church."_

21:00 Director's Office

Al stood in front of the Director's desk, fidgeting; it was the first time he had ever been here and it was more Spartan-like than he had imagined it. The Director walked in as Al immediately shot up at attention. The Director nodded at him, dismissing him, and spoke, "Agent, you are probably wondering why I called you up."

Al nodded and the Director continued, "Your scores have put you in the top four recruits, not to mention you have demonstrated great leadership in the training programs. In truth, you are respected by every freelancer and personnel on this ship... even Nevada."

Al raised an eyebrow at the thought that the Black Team's new leader was respectful of him but pushed the thought aside as the Director continued.

"Also in a couple of weeks there will be a new group of freelancer recruits to be trained in our program. Having that many new faces could cause some... conflict which is where you will come in to play."

The Director pushed a small box across his table and continued, "Agent Alabama, you are now promoted to the rank of sergeant of the first rank and the overall commanding officer of the freelancers."

Al's jaw dropped but before he could stutter out a response, the Director added, "You are the most qualified to take this position because one, you are uncomfortable with power and authority; two, you have the ability to exercise a mediating hand between any conflicts, like such as in the argument of Blue and Red Team in the co-training session. You are the only possible choice."

Al swallowed and though about the responsibility. He thought back on how he had handled the teamwork-training session and how he had reacted to Georgia... and prayed that he didn't do something completely embarrassing.

He nodded and gave a salute. "I'll make you proud, sir."

The Director returned the salute and replied, "I know you will. But before you go..."

He clicked a button on his desk and a familiar looking tiny blue figure appeared on the desk.

"You will also be partnered with one of the AI put in our care by the USNC. However I'll ask you to watch who you tell due to the fact that some may take it personally."

Al nodded and waved at the little figure who looked back before waving.

"I would like you to meet Alpha's... brother: Zeta."

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) )))))))))))))))

Al walked out of the office and leaned against the wall in support. He would be the official commander of the freelancers. Responsible for all the lives of his teammates and the outcomes of their future missions.

"I need a beer," he thought to himself shaking his head as he headed towards the mess hall. He paused outside the door when he heard the sounds of clinking and a strained voice saying, "Not there, THERE! You are a horrible party planner pal."

Recognizing the voice and the responding grunt, Al opened the door and walked in to see York and Maine setting up decorations around the mess hall in a festive mood. Maine waved at him... letting go of the box that York was holding, sending him to the ground with crushed fingers and a yelp of pain.

With a glare at Maine, York waved Al in and said, "I guess you saw the note on the door, huh?"

Al raised an eyebrow before checking the door: sure enough, he had missed a little post-it note saying,

_Graduation Party_

_Freelancers only!_

"Well now I have," Al responded smiling. He began to walk into the room before York shouted, "Wait!"

Al froze in mid-step and asked quietly, "You didn't place a mine down, did you?"

York shook his head and replied gleefully, "Not yet. But..-" he added at the look of Al's twitching eyebrow, "You're still dressed out in fatigues. It's a party man!"

Al then just noticed his friends were dressed in T-shirts and black pants. Chuckling, he said, "Alright, I'm going to get changed. Don't start without me!"

"While you're out there," York said running up with some notes of paper stacked in his hands. "Hand out the invitations, will ya?"

Nodding, Al took them and headed towards the dorms. He stopped by his room to change into some thing more comfortable than his fatigues, a red T-shirt and black pants. After a moment or two to take a shower, he quickly got changed and headed out. As he walked out of the dorms, he placed the corresponding letters in front of the recipient's room. Soon he was all but done with only Carolina left.

That's when his notorious bad luck occurred: just as he was putting it down next to a newspaper, Carolina opened the door, with only a towel wrapped around her. Al's eyes bulged out and he couldn't help but stare and stutter.

For a long minute, the two of them just stared at each other before Al looked away, embarrassed.

"I uh... came by to hand out your invitation. Just a little graduation celebration thing in the mess hall," he finally managed to squeak out before adding hurriedly, "Of course, if you don't want to come, I can understand-…"

"Sure I'll go," she said surprising him.

"Oh! Okay," he managed, standing back up awkwardly with small smile. "See you there!"

"See you there," Carolina replied back and with a small, barely noticeable smile, closed the door.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ))))))

By the time he had returned to the mess hall, his teammates had already finished putting up the decorations. Maine noticed the blush still on Al's face and nudged York to point it out. York glanced over and couldn't help but ask, "What's got you so red in the face?...Literally."

Startled, Al looked up before saying, "Nothing important. I'll tell you guys later."

Maine nodded, closely followed by York; they quickly began setting out some snacks from military rations (as a joke) to pieces of fruit.

The door slid open and in walked Green Team and CT, all in casual T-shirts that matched their armor colors. CT immediately headed over to the kitchen to help with preparing the food.

"Where are the girls?" Al asked North.

North shrugged and said, "South said something about sprucing up before she ran for the bathrooms."

Al raised an eyebrow: either "sprucing up" was code for something terrible or South was actually dressing up girly-wise... The first option seemed much more likely than the latter. Either way tonight would be interesting to say the least.

And just like as if on cue, the door opened once more and in walked the female freelancers. All the guys froze and Al's jaw hit the deck like a sack of potatoes.

All the girls were dressed in simple knee-high dresses, each one matching their armor. Wash stared as he walked and managed to trip over Wyoming's foot, right into the table of snacks. Nevada couldn't help but giggle before a glare from Virginia shut her up.

North moved to help but South beat him to it, pulling Wash up by the arm, then seemed to realize what she had done and backed up quickly.

"Thanks," Wash stuttered nervously.

South nodded before walking over to the drink table that had remained unscathed by some miracle and poured herself a cup of punch. With that strange moment, everyone scattered about the room and conversations began.

Al drank a bit of his cup of punch and watched as his fellow teammates made small talk around him. He sighed at the lack of actual partying being done and exchanged a glance at York. The bronze freelancer nodded and pressed a few buttons on a nearby console. Almost immediately, music began playing over the speakers as the freelancers looked on amused. Yet still no one was dancing.

Twitching his eyebrow, he looked around but was startled when Carolina suddenly said next to him, "Any ideas to promote morale, boss?"

For a moment he looked startled; how had she figured out he had been promoted? Then he realized that being the leader of Red Team made him the red "boss." After a small sigh of relief, he pondered her question and an old saying came to mind.

He put down his cup and ignoring the urge to act terrified or scared out of his wits, offered his arm to Carolina.

"May I have this dance, milady?" he asked loudly, before whispering, "Lead by example, remember?"

Carolina stared at him curiously, long enough to make Al nervous before taking his arm and they walked to the dance floor. They paused for a moment before they started to dance in a manner that was quite slow. The remainder of the freelancers watched or stared in some cases before Maine walked with Virginia onto the dance floor. South and Wash looked at each other awkwardly before South pulled him onto the dance floor unceremoniously.

And then the music changed into a more hip-hop dance-club music; Al glanced at York who just said, "I didn't make the soundtrack, pal."

He shook his head before he turned back to Carolina who had started to look a bit nervous as well. He started to slide side to side on his feet and she joined in slowly. Soon the whole gang had joined in, dancing randomly all over the room. They would party all night and would have the time of their lives because tonight, they were official agents of Project Freelancer.


End file.
